His book is not going to be a classic (see above). Either Morrissey knows that - in which case the 'classic' label is a genuinely hilarious joke - or, horribile dictu, he believes it, in which case the book is likely to have all the humour and finesse of a statue produced by the Kim Jong-Il metallurgy factory for the glorification of the great leader.

It is the literary equivalent of a leg of lamb so tender, easy-to-leave-the-bone and immaculately prepared you could eat it every day for the rest of your life; it is a feast for the soul, next to which snail porridge and garlic sorbet seem almost laughably unsatisfying.

Here in the US, we're working with the Bronx Museum of the Arts in New York, home to a diverse and creative community. Many people who live in the Bronx today don't have historical links to the UK, so we wanted to really engage with them and illuminate an aspect of Dickens's work that is more than just top hats and foggy Victorian London.